Dawn came pale as bone. Kael stood on the ridge overlooking Camp Seven, counting heartbeats between each breath. One. Two. Three. The painter spirit pressed against his ribs from inside, restless as fever.
Should he really do this? Die for nothing? No... not nothing. Die so maybe someone else wouldn't have to kneel when the feeding began.
The camp sprawled below like a wound on the earth. Guard towers every fifty meters. Black coats moving in practiced patterns. Their spirits partially manifested, casual displays of power that made his painter whimper.
This... he pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the spirit curl tighter. They'd grown stronger. Sixteen spirits absorbed. Still Low Apprentice. Still an ant declaring war on mountains.
"Forty-three Kiratashi visible." He whispered the count. "Twelve more arriving from the east road."
Why so many for a simple execution? Unless...
His spirit painted the answer in his mind. Mass feeding. Not just Mya. Dozens scheduled for today. The Council making an event of it.
"I should leave." The words tasted like ash. "I should..."
But his feet moved forward. Down the slope. Toward certain death. Because somewhere in those pens, Mya waited. Counted on no one. Expected nothing. And that made it worse somehow.
The outer wall loomed ahead. Three hundred meters of killing ground between wall and prisoner yard. His spirit emerged partially, sniffing the air. The scent of power everywhere. Split spirits. Officials. Something larger lurking underground.
Wait for the feeding to begin? When attention focused inward? Or strike now while routines held?
His spirit made the choice. Gathered itself. Began to paint.
Fire bloomed on the supply building's roof. Not real flame but close enough. Orange tongues that danced and spread. Smoke that billowed black against morning sky. For thirty seconds, perfect illusion.
"Fire! Supply fire!" A guard's shout cracked across the yard.
Beautiful chaos erupted. Half the guards rushed toward the false emergency. Buckets appeared. Orders flew. The prisoners in the yard pressed against fences, sensing opportunity in confusion.
Could they see it was false? Not yet. His spirit painted with everything it had. The flames looked real. Felt real to those who didn't look too close. But the strain...
Blood trickled from Kael's nose. The price of pushing too hard. His spirit added more. Figures running from the building. Prisoners escaping in the smoke. Guards split their attention. Chased shadows.
"The granary too!" Someone shouted. "They're coordinated!"
His spirit obliged. More false fire. More painted chaos. But already the illusions wavered. Proper Kiratashi would see through them. Seconds left. Maybe less.
"Run." He whispered to the real prisoners. Willed them to understand. "Someone run. Please..."
Three tried. Young ones. Barely older than he'd been when this started. They burst from the yard during the confusion. Made it past the first fence. The second. Guards turning back, noticing...
The illusions shattered.
"Fakery!" An Official Kiratashi gestured sharply. His spirit manifested fully. A Lord rank. Massive canine made of storm clouds and hunger. "Find the source. Now."
Found. His painter tried to hide them. Too late. Too weak. The Lord spirit's eyes fixed on their position. It howled. Sound like thunder trying to eat itself.
Should he run? Could he run? The Lord spirit would catch him in three strides. Better to stand. Die facing them at least.
His spirit agreed. Rose to its full height. All four feet of it. Pathetic against the storm-thing padding toward them. But it growled anyway. David versus Goliath if David was bacteria.
"Wait." A woman's voice cut through the morning air. "I want to see this."
The Lord spirit paused. A Master Kiratashi emerged from the command building. Middle-aged. Scarred. Reality bent around her like light through water. Power radiated from every step.
"Low Apprentice." She studied him with mild interest. "Newly bound. Here to rescue someone?"
No point in lies. "Yes."
"Who?"
"A friend." He wouldn't give them Mya's name. Wouldn't paint a target on her specifically.
"Touching." The Master's smile held no cruelty. Just exhaustion. "Tell me, boy. What did you imagine happening? Fighting past fifty Kiratashi? Our spirits bowing to your paint-dog?"
What had he imagined? Nothing coherent. Just... had to try. Had to be here. "I hoped to cause enough chaos. Maybe some would escape in the confusion."
"Some did try." She gestured to the yard. Guards were dragging the three who'd run back through the gates. "They'll be processed first now. Thanks to you."
No. That wasn't... he hadn't meant...
His spirit pressed against him. Shared the horror. Those three would die because he'd given them hope. Because he'd made them think escape was possible.
"First lesson of power, boy. Actions have consequences." The Master turned to her subordinate. "Kill him clean. He tried. That earns quick death."
The Official nodded. His Lord spirit stalked forward. Each step shook the ground. Kael's painter bristled. Ready to fight. Ready to die badly. At least they'd tried. At least...
"Wait." New voice. One of the guards by the fence. "That's the Thorne boy."
Thorne? How did he... who would...
The guard pulled off his helmet. Graying hair. Weathered face. Marcus. His father's friend who'd carried him as a baby. Who'd saved him that night in the snow.
"Impossible." The Master's voice sharpened like blade on stone. "The Thorne line is dead."
"Look at his neck. The birthmark." Marcus stepped closer. Brave or stupid. Maybe both. "Blue lotus. I carried him myself fifteen years ago."
Everything stopped. Every Kiratashi turned. Stared. His birthmark burned under their collective gaze. His spirit tried to hide him. Paint wouldn't conceal what blood proclaimed.
"Aldric's son." The Master breathed the words like prayer. "The Council will want him alive."
Want him? For what? But guards were already moving. Surrounding. His spirit snarled warnings. Painted barriers that shattered instantly against their power.
"Don't fight." Marcus caught his eyes. Pleading. "Please. Don't make them hurt you."
Make them? They would anyway. But... Mya. She was watching from the yard. He could see her pressed against the fence. Saw recognition dawn. Saw her mouth his name.
This... if he fought and died here, she'd blame herself. The last thing she'd see would be his corpse. He couldn't do that to her.
"I surrender."
His spirit howled disagreement. But obeyed. Dissolved back into his chest. Left him defenseless as guards closed in.
"Bind him. Carefully." The Master commanded. "The Council's wanted a Thorne for fifteen years. Don't damage their prize."
Special chains. The metal burned cold against his skin. His spirit thrashed inside. Couldn't emerge. Couldn't help. They'd bound his bound spirit. Recursive imprisonment.
"Take him to Processing." The Master smiled now. Calculating. "Let him watch what he tried to prevent. Educational."
They dragged him toward the yard. Toward the prisoners. Toward Mya. She reached through the fence as he passed. Fingers barely brushed his arm. Just a moment. Just a touch.
"You came." Her voice cracked with something between grief and wonder. "You actually came."
"I'm sorry. I tried to..."
"You came." She repeated. As if that was miracle enough. As if that mattered more than success. "That's enough."
Enough? He'd failed completely. Made things worse. Got himself captured. But she smiled. Tired. Worn. Defeated. But real.
They dragged him past. Into the processing building. The temperature dropped with each step down. Ten degrees. Twenty. His spirit shivered inside him. Whimpered. They descended into mechanical horror.
The processing chamber sprawled vast as nightmare. Ritual circles carved into stone. Feeding tubes running to underground holds. And in the center...
This... his mind tried to reject what his eyes reported. The Domain spirit waited. Chained but patient. Massive beyond comprehension. Its form shifted between states. Sometimes humanoid. Sometimes architectural. Sometimes just hunger given space.
"Education begins." The Master had followed them down. "Watch what your father tried to stop. Watch what the Council deems necessary. Watch your friend feed the beast that keeps worse beasts at bay."
They chained him to the observation platform. Perfect view of the killing floor. His spirit raged inside. Painted escape plans that all ended in death. All impossible. All too late.
The Domain spirit stirred. Opened eyes like dying stars. Seven of them. Arranged wrong. It had been sleeping. Digesting. Now it woke hungry.
Below, guards herded the first prisoners in. The ones who'd tried to run. Because of him. Because he'd given them false hope.
They stumbled into the ritual circle. Young. Terrified. The temperature dropped another ten degrees. Their breath misted. Their tears froze on their cheeks.
The Domain spirit considered them. Lazy. Patient. Then it breathed.
Not air. Something else. The prisoners' expressions changed. Terror deepened. Became something beyond fear. They saw something in that breath. Their own deaths? Their worst memories? Whatever it was made them scream.
This... Kael pulled against his chains. The metal bit deeper. His spirit painted frantically inside him. Trying to help. Trying to hide him from the sight. But the chains forced him to watch. To witness.
The Domain spirit fed slow. Drew out their terror like wine from a bottle. The prisoners aged as he watched. Not physically. Something deeper. Their souls withering as the spirit drank deep.
When they finally collapsed, they looked grateful.
"First batch." The Master noted clinically. "The ones scheduled will last longer. We've been preparing them properly."
Preparing them. Keeping them terrified. Marinating them in their own fear. His stomach rebelled. He swallowed bile. Couldn't look away. The chains wouldn't let him.
More prisoners entered. The scheduled ones. They walked different. Mechanical. Like they'd accepted this ending weeks ago. Just meat reporting for consumption.
And there... red hair among the crowd. Mya.
She walked steady. Back straight. But her eyes... empty. Like she'd already left and forgot to take her body.
This was his fault. If he'd been stronger. Faster. If he hadn't wasted time playing with paints while she rotted here...
The Domain spirit perked up. Sensed something different in this batch. It leaned forward. All seven eyes focused. Hungry. Eager. These ones had been properly seasoned.
Mya stepped into the circle with five others. The temperature plummeted to arctic. Ice formed on the walls. On the floors. On the prisoners' skin.
But she didn't scream. None of them did. They'd screamed themselves empty already. Now they just stood. Waited. Ready for ending.
The Domain spirit didn't like that. It preferred fear fresh. It breathed again. Deeper. The air itself became weapon. Became memory. Became every worst moment distilled.
Mya's expression cracked. Just slightly. A single tear that froze instantly. But she still didn't scream. Stubborn to the end.
This... Kael's spirit howled inside him. Clawed at his ribs. Trying to manifest. Trying to save her. The chains burned colder. Held them both.
The Domain spirit grew frustrated. It reached out with something that wasn't quite a hand. Touched Mya's forehead. Direct contact. Direct feeding.
Now she gasped. Once. Soft sound. Like she'd remembered something beautiful just as it was stolen. Her eyes found Kael's across the chamber. Recognized him. Smiled.
Then she crumbled. Slow. Graceful. Like a painting dissolving in rain.
Gone. Mya was gone. Fed to a thing that wore spiritual flesh. Consumed for the crime of existing when monsters needed feeding.
His spirit went quiet. Stopped fighting. Stopped painting. Just curled into a ball of grief inside his chest.
"See?" The Master sounded satisfied. "This is reality. This is necessity. Your father thought he could change it. Build a better way. Look where that got him."
More prisoners. More feeding. The Domain spirit glutted itself. Grew larger with each consumption. More real. More wrong. The chains made him watch it all.
By the end, forty-three had fed the beast. Forty-three people reduced to spiritual nutrition. The Domain spirit settled back. Satisfied. Lazy. It would sleep now. Digest. Wait for next month's feast.
"Take him to holding." The Master commanded. "The Council will want him fresh."
They dragged him away. Past the emptied circles. Past the bones that hadn't been worth consuming. His spirit stayed quiet. Traumatized. They'd both learned the lesson.
This was the world. This was the system. Monsters feeding on humans while humans pretended it was necessary. Maybe it was. Maybe worse things waited if the monsters went hungry.
But Mya was still dead. Still consumed. Still gone because he'd been too weak to matter.
They locked him in a stone cell. Still chained. Still bound. The Master paused at the door.
"Your father thought love could change the world. See where love got you." She left him with that truth.
Love had got him here. Watching someone he cared about dissolve into monster food. Helpless. Worthless. Just another Thorne who'd tried and failed.
His spirit finally stirred. Painted something on the cell wall. Mya's face. Smiling. Alive. The image lasted three seconds before fading.
But those three seconds were truth too. She'd existed. She'd mattered. She'd known he came.
That had to count for something.
Even here. Even now. Even with the taste of endings bitter on his tongue.
It had to count.